“J. D. P. FRENCH,
“Field Marshal, Commanding-in-Chief,
British Army in the Field.”
In an army of hard workers, in the centre of the hive of industry that is G.H.Q., no man works harder than “The Chief.” Breakfast at the Commander-in-Chief’s is from 7.45 to 8.30, but long before that time Sir John French is at his table studying the reports which have arrived from the different armies during the night, and are awaiting his perusal when he comes down in the morning. Half-past eight finds Sir John at his place at the head of the breakfast-table, with a cheery greeting for everyone there.
At a fixed hour there takes place the daily conference between the Commander-in-Chief and the different heads of the services at G.H.Q. The Generals arrive singly or in pairs from their offices, a portfolio under their arm—the Adjutant-General, the Quartermaster-General, the Chief of the General Staff, the Chief of Intelligence. For an hour or more they are closeted singly or together with “The Chief.” Operations past or future are discussed, the whole situation along our front reviewed, guns, men, supplies, the enemy’s situation, and his probable plans.
The distribution of the rest of the day depends largely on the situation at the front. Once a movement has started and is progressing favourably, a Commander-in-Chief’s work is done for the time. Broadly speaking, it is the Commander-in-Chief who conceives the strategy of an operation, it is the Chief of the General Staff who works it out, while its tactical execution lies in the hands of the General commanding the army to which the operation is confided. He in turn leaves the carrying out of more detailed operations to the Corps Commander, who delegates part of the yet more detailed execution to the Divisional General, and he in his turn relinquishes the details of the work of the battalions on the ground to the brigade and battalion commanders.
Visits to the different army commanders in the field, the inspection of troops who have come out of action, of reinforcements, of new guns or appliances in the war of the trenches, interviews with visitors at G.H.Q., French Generals, British liaison officers with the French Army, or distinguished visitors from England, fill in the remainder of Sir John French’s day. The arrival in the afternoon of the King’s Messenger from London with despatches from the War Office and the morning newspapers absorbs the rest of the time until dinner, and often makes the Commander-in-Chief late for this meal, which, by his express orders, is never delayed for him.
Sir John French presides over his small household at G.H.Q. in a benevolent and paternal manner. All the members of his Personal Staff are old friends of his, and were with the Field-Marshal in South Africa. He calls them all by their Christian names, and each vies with the other in his devoted loyalty to “The Chief.”
The genial, courtly presence of the man pervades his whole environment. Is the situation ever so desperate, the fighting never so severe, there is no fuss or flurry at the Commander-in-Chief’s. Even during the retreat from Mons, when Headquarters was frequently moved, when for days at a time neither the Commander-in-Chief nor his Staff got even a few hours of unbroken rest, Sir John diffused about him the same calm atmosphere. He would not allow the overwhelming responsibility resting on his shoulders to overcloud the existence of the others. At meals he was cheery and debonair as usual, guiding the conversation into pleasant English channels, and illuminating it with many anecdotes and witty sayings which his great and retentive memory has stored up from an exceptionally busy life and wide and varied reading.
More than once he astonished his Staff, at a critical moment, by announcing that he would go for a walk. Picking up his old riding-crop, he would stroll forth with one of the A.D.C.’s and walk for an hour through the country lanes, stopping to admire the view, or to criticize a horse, or to look at the crops. But on his return he would go straight to his maps again, and then like a flash he would announce his decision. “I will do this and that!” And they would realize that whilst he had strolled and chatted his mind had been wrestling with the military problem that had obsessed them all.
Dinner is a pleasant meal at the Commander-in-Chief’s. Often there is a distinguished visitor from London present, a member of the Cabinet who has come out to get a glimpse for himself of conditions at the front, a leading scientific authority despatched on some mission or other, distinguished ecclesiastics like the Bishop of London or the Archbishop of Westminster. For many months the Prince of Wales, as A.D.C. to the Commander-in-Chief, dined nightly at Sir John’s table, a very charming, extremely natural young officer, who was simply addressed as “Prince,” and who was best pleased when no notice whatsoever was taken of his exalted rank. There is never any formality about precedence at the Commander-in-Chief’s, save that the guest of the evening sits on the right of the Field-Marshal.
